ANDALUCIA AND ITS BIG GAME
STILL-HUNTING (RED DEER)
The line of least resistance represents twentieth-century
ideals--maximum results for the minimum of labour or technical skill. In
the field of sport, wherever available, universal "driving" supersedes
the arts of earlier venery--the pride of past generations.
In Spain, more leisurely while no less dignified, there survive in
sport, as in other matters, practices more consonant with the dash and
chivalry popularly ascribed to her national character. Such, for
example, is the attack, single-handed, on bear or boar with cold
steel--_á arma blanca_, in Castilian phrase. Here we purpose describing
the system of "Still-hunting" (_Rastreando_) as practised in Andalucia
with a skill that equals the best of the American "Red Indian," and is
only surpassed, within our experience, by Somalis and Wandorobo savages
in East Africa.
Before day-dawn we are away with our two trackers. Maybe it is a lucky
morning, and as the first streaks of light illumine the wastes, they
reveal to our gaze a first-rate stag. In that case the venture is vastly
simplified. It is merely necessary to allow time for the stag to reach
his lie-up, and the spoor can be followed at once. But barring such
exceptional fortune, it is necessary to find, or rather to select from
amidst infinity of tracks crossing and recrossing hither and thither in
bewildering profusion the trail of such a master-beast as clearly is
worthy the labour of a long day's pursuit. Twice and again we follow a
spoor for 100 yards or more over difficult ground before finally
deciding that its owner is not up to our standard of quality, and the
interrupted search is resumed. Once found, there is rarely room for
mistake with a really big spoor. The breadth of heel, the length and
deep-cut prints of the cloven toes attest both weight and quality. The
ground is open, soft, and easy. The big new track, with its spurts of
forward-projected sand, are visible yards ahead. We follow almost at a
run--how simple it seems! But not for long. Soon comes check No. 1. A
dozen other deer have followed on the same line, and the original trail
is obliterated. The troop leads on into a region of boundless bush,
shoulder-high, where the ground is harder and the trackers spread out to
right and left, backing each other with silent signals. Their skill and
patience fascinate; but it is to me, in the centre, that after a long
hour's scrutiny, falls the satisfaction of rediscovering that big track
where it diverges alone on the left. Half a mile beyond, our erratic
friend has passed through water. For a space a broken reed here or
displaced lilies there help us forward; then the deepening water, all
open, bears no trace. The opposite shore, moreover, is fringed by a
200-yard belt of bulrush and ten-foot canes, and beyond all that lies
heavy jungle.
You give it up? Admittedly these are no lines of least resistance, but
we will cut the unpopular part as short as may be and merely add that it
was high noon ere, after three hours' work--puzzling out problems and
paradoxes, now following a false clue, anon recovering the true
one--that at last the big spoor on dry land once more rejoiced our
sight. More than that, it now bears evidence--to eyes that can
read--that our stag is approaching his selected stronghold. He goes
slowly. Here he has stopped to survey his rear--there he has lingered to
nibble a genista, and the spoor zigzags to and fro. Now it turns at
sharp angle, following a cheek-wind, and a suggestive grove of cork-oaks
embedded in heavy bush lies ahead. One hunter opines the stag lies up
here: the other doubts. No half-measures suffice. We turn down-wind,
detouring to reach the main outlet (_salida_) to leeward; here I remain
hidden, while my companions, separating on right and left, proceed to
encircle the _mancha_. Two hinds break hard by, and presently Juan
returns with word that the stag has passed through the covert--better
still, that a second big beast has joined the first, and that the double
spoor, moving dead-slow and three-quarters up wind, proceeds due north.
Another mile and then right ahead lies heavy covert, but long and
straggling, and the halting trail indicates this as a certain find.
The strategic position is simple, but tactics, for a single gun, leave
endless scope for decision. Our first rule in all such cases is to get
_close in_, risk what it may. Hence, while my companions separated, as
before, to encircle the covert from right and left, the writer crept
forward yard by yard till a fairly broad and convenient open suggested
the final stand.
Not ten minutes had elapsed, nor had a sound reached my ears, when as by
magic the figure of a majestic stag filled a glade on the left--what a
picture, as with head erect he daintily picked his unconscious way!
Clearly he suspected nothing _here_; but, having got sense, sight, or
scent of Juan far beyond, was astutely moving away, with intelligent
anticipation, to safer retreat. The shot was of the simplest, and merely
black antlers crowned with triple ivory tips marked the fatal point
among deep green rushes.
Now when two big stags fraternise, as they frequently do, it usually
happens that, when pressed, both animals will finally seek the same
exit, even though a shot has already been fired there. I had accordingly
instructed the keepers that in the event of my firing, each should
discharge his gun in the air, at the same time loosing one dog. The
expected shots now rang out, presently followed by a crashing in the
brushwood. This proved to be caused by a handful of hinds with, alas!
the loose dog baying at their heels. The adverse odds had fallen to
zero, till Juan, divining what had occurred, fired again and slipt the
other dog. Anxious minutes slowly passed while my two biped
sleuth-hounds on the other side gradually, yard by yard, made good their
advance; for the wit and wiles, the practised cunning of an old stag
when thus cornered, need every scrap of our human skill to out-general,
and nothing to spare at that. But that skill was not at fault to-day,
and in the thick of the _mancha_, Manuel presently "jumped" the recusant
hart from almost beneath his feet, and his view-halloa reached expectant
ears.
[Illustration]
Then, within a few yards of the spot where No. 1 had silently appeared,
out bounced No. 2, but in widely different style. In huge bounds, with
head and neck horizontal and antlers laid flat aback, he covered the
open like a racer. The first shot got in too far back, but the second
went right, and the two friends lay not divided in death. Both were
_coronados_ (triple-crowned), indeed the second carried four-on-top in
double pairs as sketched--a not uncommon formation--but being very old,
lacked bez tines.
Very nearly five hours had elapsed since we had first struck the spoor,
five hours of concentrated attention, crowned by the final assertion of
human "dominion." And during these moments of permissible expansion,
there was impressed on our minds the fact that such success involves
mastery of a difficult craft.
[Illustration: "TAKING THE WIND"
(A stag, on recognising human scent, will give a bound as though a knife
had been plunged into his heart.)]
Illustrative of how astutely a cornered stag will exploit every device
and avenue of escape, an excellent instance is given in _Wild Spain_, p.
434.
Skilled deer-driving is a different undertaking from the _force majeure_
by which pheasants and such-like game may be pushed over a line of guns.
For deer do not act on timid impulse, but on practical instinct. Scent
is their first safeguard when danger threatens and their natural flight
is up-wind. But as it is obviously impossible to place guns to windward,
the operation resolves itself into moving the game--dead against its
instinct and set inclination--down-wind, or at least on a "half-wind."
The latter is easier as an operation, but less effective in result:
since the guns must be posted in echelon--otherwise each "gives the
wind" to his next neighbour below. Consequently the firing-zone of each
is greatly circumscribed.
In practice, therefore, the game has to be moved or cajoled--it can
hardly be said to be "driven"--into going, at least so far, down-wind by
skilled handling of the driving-line and by intelligent co-operation on
the part of each individual driver. In the great mountain-drives of the
sierras (elsewhere described) packs of hounds, being carefully trained,
perform infinite service. Always under control of their huntsman, they
systematically search out thickets impenetrable to man and push all game
forward. In the Coto Doñana, our scratch-pack of _podencos_ and mongrels
of every degree, run riot unchecked at hind, hare, or rabbit, giving
tongue in all directions at once, and probably do as much harm as good.
Our mounted keepers, however, expert in divining afar the yet unformed
designs of the game ahead, are quick to counter each move by a feint or
demonstration behind; and when desirable, to forestall attempted escape
by resolute riding. The Spanish are a nation of horsemen, and a fine
sight it is to see these wild guardas galloping helter-skelter through
scrub that reaches the saddle--especially the way they ride down a
wounded stag or boar with the _garrocha_--a long wooden lance.
Despite it all, however, many stags break back. Riding with the beaters
it is instructive to watch the manoeuvres of an old stag as, sinking
from sight, he couches among quite low scrub on some hillock, or stands
statuesque with horns aback hiding behind a clump of tall
tree-heaths--alert all the while, stealthily to shift his position as
yapping _podencos_ on one side or the other may suggest--and watching
each opportunity to evade the encompassing danger. Now a stretch of
denser jungle obstructs the advancing line. The beaters are forced apart
to pass it, and a gap or two yawns in the attack. Instantly that
introspective wild beast realises his advantage--he springs to sight,
ignores Spanish expletives that scorch the scrub, and in giant bounds
breaks back in the very face of encircling foes. Within thirty seconds
he has regained security amid leagues of untrodden wilds.
Some years ago we tried the plan of placing one (or two) guns with the
driving-line; but the experiment proved impracticable. Obviously only
the coolest and most reliable men could be trusted in an essay which
otherwise involved danger. Unfortunately--and it is but human
nature--every one considers himself equally cool and reliable. Hence the
breakdown and abandonment of the practice. For the long line of beaters,
struggling at different points through obstacles of varying difficulty,
necessarily loses precise formation; it becomes more or less broken and
scattered. Here and there a man may get "stuck" and left a hundred yards
behind the general advance. The risk in "firing back" is obvious. The
writer remembers being one of two guns with the beaters, when a pair of
stags, jumping up close ahead, bolted straight back, passing almost
within arm's length. As the second carried a fairly good head, I
dismounted and shot it, but was then horrified to discover that my
companion-gun had (contrary to all rules) gone back in that very
direction to shoot a _woodcock_!
DRIVING BIG GAME
On "driving" as such we do not propose to enlarge. The system is simple
though the practice is subject to variation. On the gently undulated
levels of Doñana, for example, the latter (as already indicated) is
widely differentiated from the systems practised in mountainous
countries--whether in Scotland or the Spanish sierras--where shots can
safely be accepted at incoming or at passing game. Guns are there
protected from danger by intervening ridges, crags, and piled-up rocks
that flank each "pass." Here the game must be left to pass well through
and outside the line of guns before a shot is permissible.
Our "drives," whether in forest or scrub, seldom exceed a couple of
miles in extent; but in wild regions where isolated patches of covert
are scattered, inset amid wastes of sand, the area may be extended to
half a day's ride. These long scrambling drives gain enhanced interest
to a naturalist in precisely inverse ratio with their probability of
success.
In a big-game drive the first animals to come forward are, as a rule,
foxes and lynxes--creatures which move on impulse, and instantly quit a
zone where danger threatens. Both, however, will certainly pass unseen
should there be any scrub to conceal their retreat. The lynx especially
is adept at utilising cover, however slight. Should open patches or
sandy glades occur among the bush, foxes will be viewed bundling along,
to all appearance quite carelessly. Here in Spain foxes are merely
"vermin"; but it is a mistake to shoot them, owing to the risk of
thereby turning back better game. Neither lynx nor fox, by the way, are
accounted _caza mayor_ unless killed with a bullet.
[Illustration: _SYLVIA MELANOCEPHALA_
(Sardinian warbler; conspicuous by its strong colour-contrasts.)]
As elsewhere mentioned, there is always a considerable possibility at
the earlier period of a "drive" (and even _before_ the operation has
actually commenced) of some old and highly experienced stag attempting
to slip through the line in the calculated hope (which is often well
founded) that he will thereby take most of the guns by surprise and so
escape unshot at. Never be unready.
Although in "driving," that element of ceaseless personal effort,
observation and self-reliance that characterise stalking, still-hunting,
or spooring, is necessarily reduced, yet it is by no means eliminated.
Nor are there lacking compensating charms in those hours of silent
expectancy spent in the solitude of jungle or amid the aromatic
fragrance of pine-forest. Every sense is held in tension to mark and
measure each sign or sound; 'tis but the fall of a pine-cone that has
caught your ear, but it might easily have been a single footfall of
game. The wild-life of the wilderness pursues its daily course around
unconscious of a concealed intruder in its midst. Overhead, busy
hawfinches wrestle with ripening cones, swinging in gymnastic attitude.
These are silent. You have first become aware of their presence by a
shower of scales gently fluttering down upon the shrubbery of genista
and rosemary alongside, amidst the depths of which lovely French-grey
warblers with jet-black skull-caps (_Sylvia melanocephala_) pursue
insect-prey with furious energy--dashing into the tangle of stems
reckless of damage to tender plumes. There are other bush-skulkers
infinitely more reclusive than these--some indeed whose mere existence
one could never hope to verify (in winter) save by patience and these
hours of silent watching. Such are the Fantail, Cetti's, and Dartford
warblers, while among sedge and cane-brake alert reed-climbers beguile
and delight these spells of waiting. Soldier-ants and horned beetles
with laborious gait, but obvious fixity of purpose, pursue their even
way, surmounting all obstruction--such as boot or cartridge-bag. Earth
and air alike are instinct with humble life.
[Illustration: REED-CLIMBERS]
To a northerner it is hard to believe that this is mid-winter, when
almost every tree remains leaf-clad, the brushwood green and
flower-spangled. Arbutus, rosemary, and tree-heath are already in bloom,
while bees buzz in shoulder-high heather and suck honey from its
tricoloured blossoms--purple, pink, and violet. Strange diptera and
winged creatures of many sorts and sizes, from gnat and midge to savage
dragon-flies, rustle and drone in one's ear or poise on iridescent wing
in the sunlight, and the hateful hiss of the mosquito mingles with the
insect-melody. Over each open flower of rock-rose or cistus hovers the
humming-bird hawk-moth with, more rarely, one of the larger sphinxes
(_S. convolvuli_), each with long proboscis inserted deep in tender
calyx. Not even the butterflies are entirely absent. We have noticed
gorgeous species at Christmas time, including clouded yellows, painted
lady and red admiral, southern wood-argus, Bath white, _Lycaena
telicanus_, _Thäis polyxena_, _Megaera_, and many more. On the warm sand
at midday bask pretty green and spotted lizards,[10] apparently asleep,
but alert to dart off on slightest alarm, disappearing like a thought in
some crevice of the cistus stems.
[Illustration: GREAT GREY SHRIKE (_Lanius meridionalis_)]
Hard by a winter-wandering hoopoe struts in an open glade, prodding the
earth with curved bill and crest laid back like a "claw-hammer"; from a
tall cistus-spray the southern grey shrike mumbles his harsh soliloquy,
and chattering magpies everywhere surmount the evergreen bush. Where the
warm sunshine induces untimely ripening of the tamarisk, some brightly
coloured birds flicker around pecking at the buds. They appear to be
chaffinches, but a glance through the glass identifies them as
bramblings--arctic migrants that we have shot here in midwinter with
full black heads--in "breeding-plumage" as some call it, though it is
merely the result of the wearing-away of the original grey fringe to
each feather, thus exposing the glossy violet-black bases.
[Illustration: SPANISH GREEN WOODPECKER (_Gecinus sharpei_)
(1) Alighting.
(2) Calling.
]
Birds, as a broad rule, possess no "breeding-plumage." They only renew
their dress once a year, in the autumn, and breed the following spring
in the worn and ragged plumes. It's not poetic, but the fact.[11] This
is not the place to enumerate all the characteristic forms of bird-life,
and only one other shall be mentioned, chiefly because the incident
occurred the day we drafted this chapter. One hears behind the rustle of
strong wings, and there passes overhead in dipping, undulated flight a
green woodpecker of the Spanish species, _Gecinus sharpei_. With a
regular thud he alights on the rough bark of a cork-oak in front, clings
in rigid aplomb while surveying the spot for any sign of danger, then
projects upwards a snake-like neck and with vertical beak gives forth a
series of maniacal shrieks that resound through the silences.[12] By all
means watch and study every phase of wild-life around you--the habit
will leave green memories when the keener zest for bigger game shall
have dimmed--but never be caught napping, or let a silent stag pass by
while your whole attention is concentrated on a tarantula!
[Illustration: A TARANTULA]
By way of illustrating the practice of "driving," we annex three or four
typical instances:--
LAS ANGOSTURAS, _February 5, 1907_.--The writer's post was in a green
glade surrounded by pine-forest. A heavy rush behind was succeeded (as
anticipated) by the appearance of a big troop of hinds followed by two
small staggies. A considerable distance behind these came a single good
stag, and already the sights had covered his shoulder, when from the
corner of an eye a second, with far finer head, flashed into the
picture, going hard, and I decided to change beasts. It was, however,
too late. Half automatically, while eyes wandered, fingers had closed on
trigger. At the shot the better stag bounded off with great uneven
strides through the timber, offering but an uncertain mark. Both
animals, however, were recovered. The first, an eleven-pointer, lay dead
at the exact spot; the second was brought to bay within 300 yards, a
fine royal.
LOS NOVARBOS, _January 9, 1903_.--My post was among a grove of
pine-saplings in a lovely open plain surrounded by forest. Two good
stags trotted past, full broadside, at 80 yards. The first dropped in a
heap, as though pole-axed, the second receiving a ball that clearly
indicated a kill. While reloading, noticed with surprise that No. 1 had
regained his legs and was off at speed. A third bullet struck behind;
but it was not till two hours later, after blood-spooring for half a
league, that we recovered our game. The first shot had struck a horn (at
junction of trez tine) cutting it clean in two. This had momentarily
stunned the animal, but the effect had passed off within ten seconds.
Both were ten-pointers, with strong black horns, ivory-tipped. During
that afternoon I got & big boar at Maë-Corra; and B., who had set out at
4 A.M., twenty-three geese at the Cardo-Inchal.
FAR NORTH, _January 31, 1907_.--First beat by the "Eagles' Nest" (in the
biggest cork-oak we ever saw, the imperial bird soaring off as we rode
up). Brushwood everywhere tall and dense, giving no view. On placing me
the keeper remarked, "By this little glade (_canuto_) deer _must_ break,
but amidst such jungle will need _un tiro de merito_!" Four stags broke,
two were missed, but one secured--seven points on one horn, the other
broken. So dense is the bush here that a lynx ran almost over the
writer's post, yet had vanished from sight ere gun could be brought to
shoulder. In the next beat, La Querencia del Macho (again all dense
bush), B. shot two really grand companion stags, but again one of these
had a broken horn. This animal while at bay so injured the spine of one
of our dogs that it had to be killed two days later.[13] A third beat
added one more big stag, and the day's result--four stags with only two
"heads"--is so curious that we give the detail:--
+--------------------------------------------------------+
| | Length. | Breadth. | Points. |
+--------------------------------------------------------+
| W. E. B.[14] | 23-1/2" | (One horn) | 7 × 2 |
| W. J. B. (No. 1) | 28" | Do. | 6 × 2 |
| W. J. B. (No. 2) | 25" × 25" | 25" | 7 × 6 = 13 |
| A. C. | 26" × 24" | 20-1/2" | 6 × 5 = 11 |
+--------------------------------------------------------+
Amidst forest or in dense jungle (such as last described) where no
distant view is possible, it is usually advisable to watch
outwards--that is, with back towards the beat, relying on _ears_ to
give notice of the movements of game within. But in (more or less) open
country where a view, oneself unseen, can be obtained afar, the
situation is modified. The following is an example:--
CORRAL QUEMADO, _February 1, 1909_.--The authors occupied the two
outmost posts on a high sand-ridge which commanded an introspect far
away into the heart of the covert. Already before the distant signal had
announced that the converging lines of beaters had joined, suddenly an
apparition showed up. Some 300 yards away a low pine-clad ridge
traversed the forest horizon, and in that moment the shadows beneath
became, as by magic, illumined by an inspiring spectacle--the tracery of
great spreading antlers surmounting the sunlit grey face and neck of a
glorious stag. For twenty seconds the apparition (and we) remained
statuesque as cast in bronze. Then, with the suddenness and silence of a
shifting shadow, the deep shade was vacant once more. The stag had
retired. It boots not to recall those agonies of self-reproach that
gnawed one's very being. Suffice it, they were undeserved; for five or
six minutes later that stag reappeared, leisurely cantering forward.
Clearly no specific sign or suspicion of danger ahead had struck his
mind or dictated that retirement. But his course was now, by mere chance
and uncalculated cunning, 300 yards outside the sphere of your humble
servants, the authors. That stag was now about to offer a chance to gun
No. 3, instead of, as originally, to Nos. 1 and 2. Eagerly we both
watched his course, now halting on some ridge to reconnoitre, gaze
shifting, and ears deflecting hither and thither, anon making good
another stage towards the goal of escape. A long shallow _canuto_
(hollow) concealed his bulk from view, but we now saw by the bunchy
"show" on top that this was a prize of no mean merit. Then came the
climax. Rising the slope which ended the _canuto_, in an instant the
stag stopped, petrified. Straight on in front of him, not 100 yards
ahead, lay No. 3 gun, and the fatal fact had been discovered. It may
have been an untimely movement, perhaps a glint of sunray on exposed
gun-barrel, or merely the outline of a cap three inches too high--anyway
the ambush had been detected, and now the stag swung at right angles and
sought in giant bounds to pass behind No. 2. It was a long shot, very
fast, and intercepted by intervening trees and bush--the second barrel
directed merely at a vanishing stern. Yet such was our confidence in the
aim--in both aims--that not even the subsequent sight of our antlered
friend jauntily cantering away down the long stretch of Los Tendidos
impaired by one iota its self-assurance. For a mile and more we followed
that bloodless spoor, far beyond the point whereat the keeper's solemn
verdict had been pronounced, "No lleva náda--that stag goes scot-free."
As usual, that verdict was correct.
[Illustration]
An incident worth note had occurred meanwhile. On the extreme left of
our line, a mile away, two stags out of four that broke across the
sand-wastes had been killed; and these, while we yet remained on the
scene (though a trifle delayed by fruitless spooring) had already been
attacked and torn open by a descending swarm of vultures. That, in
Africa, is a daily experience, but never, before or since, have we
witnessed such unseemly voracity in Europe.
MAJADA REAL.--This is the one lowland covert where shots are permissible
at incoming game. Being flanked on the west by gigantic sand-dunes, the
guns (under certain conditions) may be lined out a couple of miles away,
along the outskirts of the next nearest covert--the idea being to take
the stags as they canter across the intervening dunes. The conditions
referred to are (1) a straight east wind, and (2) reliable guns.
Obviously the element of _danger_ under this plan is vastly increased,
and as the keepers are responsible for any accident, they are reluctant
to execute the drive thus save only when their confidence in the guns is
complete.[15] A careless man on a grouse-drive is dangerous enough; but
here, with rifle-bullets, a reckless shot may spell death. The
"in-drive," nevertheless, is both curious and interesting. A spectacle
one does not forget is afforded when the far-away skyline of dazzling
sand is suddenly surmounted by spreading antlers, and some great hart,
perhaps a dozen of them, come trotting all unconscious directly towards
the eager eyes watching and waiting. The effect of a shot under these
conditions is frequently to turn the game off at right angles. The deer
then hold a course parallel with the covert-side, thus running the
gauntlet of several guns, and the question of "first blood" may become a
moot point--easily determined, however, by reference to the spoor. Boar
naturally are averse to take such open ground; but when severely
pressed, we have on occasion seen them scurrying across these Saharan
sands, a singular sight under the midday sun.
To introspective minds two points may have showed up in these rough
outline illustrations. First, that the best stags are ever the earliest
amove when danger threatens. These not seldom escape ere a slovenly
gunner is aware that the beat has begun. The moral is clear. Secondly,
as these bigger and older beasts exhibit fraternal tendencies, it
follows that a first chance (whether availed or bungled) need not
necessarily be the last.
Besides deer, it is quite usual that wild-boar, as well as lynxes and
other minor animals, come forward on these "drives." The divergent
nature of pig, however, renders a more specialised system advisable
when wild-boar only are the objective. For whereas the aboriginal stag
seeking a "lie-up" wherein to pass the daylight hours was satisfied by
any sequestered spot that afforded shelter and shade from the sun, that
was never the case with the jungle-loving boar. To the stag strong
jungle and heavy brushwood were ever abhorrent, handicapping his light
build and branching antlers. Clumps of tall reed-grass or three-foot
rushes, a patch of cistus or rosemary, amply fulfilled his diurnal
ideals and requirements. Nowadays, it is true, the expanded sense of
danger, the increasing pressure of modern life--even cervine life--force
him to select strongholds which offer greater security though less
convenience. The wild-boar, on the reverse, with lower carriage and
pachydermatous hide, instinctively seeks the very heaviest jungle within
his radius--the more densely briar-matted and impenetrable the better he
loves it.
Many such holts--some of them may be but a few yards in extent--are
necessarily passed untried both by dogs and men when engaged in
"driving" extended areas, sometimes miles of consecutive forest and
covert. The somnolent boar hears the passing tumult, lifts a grisly
head, grunts an angry soliloquy, and goes to sleep again, secure.
Another day you have returned expressly to pay specific attention to
him. In brief space he has diagnosed the difference in attack. Instantly
that boar is alert, ready to repel or scatter the enemy, come who may,
on two legs or four.
[Illustration: HOOPOES
On the lawn at Jerez, March 19, 1910.]